Swing
by lapsus calami
Summary: A short, drabble-esque piece, inspired by the ‘Prisoner of Azkaban’ film. A dark and stormy night in a shabby apartment brings a last glimpse at a relationship, fraying in the midst of mistrust and betrayal.


Title: Swing  
  
Summary: A short, drabble-esque piece, inspired by the 'Prisoner of Azkaban' film. A dark and stormy night in a shabby apartment brings a last glimpse at a relationship, fraying in the midst of mistrust and betrayal.  
  
Note: Lupin has AWESOME taste in music. That's all I have to say.  
  
Another Note: I lied. That's not all I have to say. Oo;; At first, this was very serious – (bad pun alert) dead Sirius –, but then it got... Rather satirical. Why does that always happen...?

* * *

A finger dipped nonchalant into the vast volume of gold, cloaked with white frills and flourishes. Just as quickly, he stuffed it back into his mouth, smiling carelessly. He hummed quietly, quite pleased with the elegant taste of birthday cake. There was no other flavour quite like it. The sheer delight of such a treat, combined with that of the warmth of a very slight fire in the hearth, as well as the sensation of slight damp tresses across his scalp – paradise.  
  
Rain pattered against the glass, carving paths against the rime. A jagged line of lightning flashed against the dark gloom, and thunder shook the pane. The dreadful weather was ignored – they had tolerated one too many storms to care much for this one. All that truly mattered was the fact that they were now safe and dry.  
  
"Oh, for Godric's sake, Padfoot. I was going to EAT that, you know." The werewolf unwrapped a tawdry rag from his head, shaking his shaggy locks to dispel any lingering drops of the tainted shower water. He tapped the ancient record player with his wand, and a magic quite separate from the one they learned in school roared into life. Lupin scowled at the former heir-apparent to the Black fortune as he ruffled the collar of his shabby robes, stopping in mid-stride to peer back at the front door.  
  
"Who is it?" Remus called aloud as he knocked aside a wisp of light brown hair laced with grey.  
  
"It's me," piped a familiar voice. "I forgot my key."  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes, ever exasperated – his way of being friendly, as it turned out. "Are you a warlock, or not, Wormtail?" he asked. Padfoot paced briskly towards the door and opened it, revealing a blonde, rather chubby fellow with a receding hairline. Rain clung to his clothes and cheeks, droplets of water amidst his stringy hair that had begun to stick out.  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Peter, bowing his head. Surprisingly, that was Pettigrew in the affable sense, as well.  
  
Peter cocked his head slightly to the right, hearing the familiar tune being etched out between needle and vinyl. Remus noticed Peter's brief smile of pleasure and nodded. "I finally got it back," he said with a grin. "It took ages, but I got it." He flashed his amber glance back at Sirius, who had returned to the kitchen counter and proceeded to finish off the slice. "You could have asked," he murmured, fighting against a smile. "Since I was the one who saved it, after all."  
  
Sirius shrugged. "It would have done young Harry a wrong, not to eat his cake right away," he justified through a mouthful of cake. "It was getting old, after all. Besides," the Animagus added, "you wouldn't have eaten it. It would've gone straight to your hips."  
  
Peter hobbled towards his own little 'room', which was more of a corner closed off with a ragged curtain. Remus raised an eyebrow dubiously. "You all right, Peter?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," said Sirius, swallowing another mouthful without much difficulty. "You seem – I dunno, anxious."  
  
Wormtail paused in his footsteps, as 'though thinking for a moment. He twirled about a second later, and smiled innocuously – a difficult feat, for someone with such odd, rat-like teeth. "I'm okay," he said, raising his hands palm up; they were gleaming with the rain; or sweat. "I'm fine. Really."  
  
Lupin and Sirius exchanged curious glances. Things were already changing – ever since James and Lily had gone into hiding, the three roommates had been considerably less open than before. Peter, sensing suspicion, trundled behind the curtain and disappeared.  
  
"So," said Sirius carefully. "Have you heard anything about...?" His voice trailed off. There was no need to finish: they both knew exactly what he meant.  
  
"No," Lupin replied quickly. "You... You don't, do you?"  
  
"'Course not," Sirius responded with a casual shrug.  
  
The record player screeched to a stop. Remus started, as did Sirius, who accidentally plunged his hand into the cake. "I'll get that, then," muttered the werewolf as he moved towards the antique. Padfoot edged his hand into his mouth, savouring the taste of frosting. Lupin tutted disapprovingly, shaking his head as he set the record player to rights.  
  
"What are you tutting for?" Sirius asked with a frown. "I hate it when you tut."  
  
"Frosting in itself is scarcely acceptable," replied Remus, wrinkling his nose. "But – just stuffing your hand in your mouth like that? Disgraceful." He eyed Sirius carefully. "Are you growing a BEARD?"  
  
"Yes," sniffed Padfoot haughtily. "It makes me look sophisticated."  
  
"You? Sophisticated?" Lupin scoffed. "It is to laugh."  
  
Another crash of thunder, and the very rooftop trembled. The rumble shattered the slight instance of unguarded geniality, and both slid back into their former discomfort, leaving naught but the quiet resonance of a Muggle record player in the background.

* * *

Last Note: Eh... Maybe I'll continue, maybe I won't continue. Oo;; This might just be one of my cliff-hanger, one time only, 'dammit, I can't think of anything else' fics. --;; I'll do m'best, 'though. 


End file.
